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His frown lifts then. “That’s not true at all,” he says softly. “It’s just that she’s so—” He stops as Vix walks into the room.

“That’s better,” she says. “It was really warm in the bookshop this afternoon, and I was all hot and sticky…” She stops and looks at the two of us. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Rudolph passes her a glass of wine. “We were just talking about teaching.”

“Drowning your sorrows?” She grins and has a sip, then goes over to the pan on the hob and pokes the potatoes with a fork. “These look done.” She tries to lift the pan, but it’s heavy with all the potatoes and the water. “Ooh.”

“Come on, girl, aren’t you doing your strength training?” I go to move the pan and pretend I can’t lift it. She giggles, and I grin, carry it to the sink, and drain off the water.

I’m conscious of Rudolph watching us, but I don’t look at him again, and he doesn’t say anything.

“Millie!” Vix calls her. “Want to help Mitch with the potatoes?”

Millie comes running in. “I’m not allowed to touch anything hot,” she says to me, putting Pooh Bear on the table.

“No, that’s a grownup’s job. You can help me mash them though, if you want.”

She climbs onto a chair. I tip the potatoes into the ceramic mixing bowl that Vix brings over, and she adds a big knob of butter, then passes Millie the potato masher.

“Go on then,” I tell her. “Get stuck in.”

I supervise as Millie does her best to squish the potatoes, while Vix and her father lay the table. Vix takes the lid off the slow cooker and stirs the sausages, filling the room with the warm smell of cooked food.

“You haven’t gone vegetarian then, while you’ve been away?” she teases.

I snort. “Nope. Still a steak man.”

“Glad to hear it. You need protein for growing muscles.”

“I’m heading toward thirty at a rate of knots,” I remind her. “I don’t want to do much more growing. Luckily, I can’t be bothered to cook for myself.”

“Don’t tell me you live on takeout?” she scolds.

“I try not to.” I pat my stomach. “I’d end up like Pooh Bear and get stuck in doorways.” Millie giggles and pokes Pooh’s round belly, and I grin. “Want some help?” She nods and passes me the masher. I press it through the potatoes, smiling as she scoops some up on her finger and makes dreamy noises as she licks it free.

While I continue to mash, I look out of the window at the view of the town spread out before me. The rooftops are turning to copper in the evening sunshine. The sea is a deep blue, fringed with gold. Seagulls cry as they swoop over the sand. It’s the sound of my youth, and it gives me goosebumps.

“All done?” Vix appears at my side and checks out the bowl. “Not bad.”

“I had expert help.” I lift Millie down, then move the bowl over to the table.

We all sit, Rudolph at the top, me on one side, facing Vix, with Millie next to her on a cushion to lift her up a bit. Vix serves up Millie’s dinner, then passes the serving spoon to me, and I give myself a couple of spoonfuls of the creamy mash, then a huge ladle of the sausage stew.

“This smells amazing,” I tell her, taking a piece of the wholemeal loaf that Rudolph had cut into chunks and spreading thick butter on it.

“God bless the Crock-Pot,” she says cheerfully. “It saves my life frequently.”

“Mitch read me Dinosaurs Love Underpants,” Millie tells her as she picks up a forkful of mash.

“That’s one of her favourites,” Vix says.

“He did all the voices.” Millie pokes her fork into a piece of sausage. “Tonight he’s reading me Hairy Maclary.”

“If that’s okay,” I say to Vix.

“Of course.” She looks surprised that I asked.

I glance at Rudolph, but he’s concentrating on his dinner and doesn’t say anything. It doesn’t sound as if he wants me to leave, but it’s hard to shake the feeling he disapproves of me.